Ecstasy in the White Room Read Free

velvet, as is the dink of my navel.
    “You really are the most colossal trollop,” murmurs Simon in my
ear, but he’s grinning, “Are you trying to give every man in the hotel the horn,
as well as me?”
    “That’s the general idea.” I flash him my most dazzling smile
as we enter the restaurant, and the maître d’ leads us to a well-situated
table.
    “Remember what I said,” Simon warns the moment we’ve been
seated and presented with a pair of large menus.
    “How could I forget.”
    He shakes his blond head despairingly, and we apply ourselves
the satisfaction of another favorite appetite.
    But all through the delicious meal, I can’t really think about
the food, superb as it is. The distractions are overwhelming. Simply looking
across at Simon sets my heart thundering. It seems absurd, but I adore him more
every moment that passes, and the simmering heat in my backside reminds me
constantly of his dominion, and his rigor.
    And because he’s so splendid, I have to be too. I know I’m
blushing a little again, and my eyes are bright with lust. Men at nearby tables
steal glances at me, and some blatantly stare, far less interested in the
cuisine than they are my cleavage, my prominent nipples and my rose-pink mouth.
Many of them eye the ribbon around my neck too, knowingly. This is the sort of
place where its symbolism is known.
    “You know that when you lick your lips like that, it makes the
waiter imagine he’s getting what I had not long ago, don’t you?”
    Simon gives me an arch look and, to provoke him, I repeat the
gesture, sweeping my tongue over my lower lip, very slowly. “What, only the
waiter?”
    “Dirty bitch,” he remarks amiably. “I should throw you across
this table and wallop you again.” He pauses, then continues in a lower tone.
“And then give you a long, hard fuck until you scream...so that then they’d know
exactly who you belong to.”
    “So why don’t you?”
    We both know that it’s just an outrageous fantasy, here in this
restaurant...but still. From his pocket, Simon retrieves a white plastic
rectangle with an elaborate silver curlicue upon its surface. It’s an invitation
to a private function, a very exclusive private function, extended only to
certain guests here, while others haven’t even the faintest notion such
gatherings exist. The white card was in our welcome basket, along with the sex
toys, and neither of us was quite sure whether we’d accept tonight...until
now.
    Simon’s eyes ask the question. It’s not exactly the night you’d
expect us to go to the next level, but then again, why not? Perhaps it’s the
perfect night? We’ve already taken the next step in a different way.
    I make the faintest of nods. There’s no need for more. He
understands perfectly, and his beautiful blue eyes blaze with pride and
admiration. For a moment, I’m completely in control of him, then he subtly
straightens his shoulders and his spine, and he’s supreme again.
    And I’m melting.
    We’ve finished eating. It’s time. But I need a moment to
myself, for certain reasons. I rise and excuse myself. “Back in a trice.”
    Simon’s expression is amused, and lightly warning. Oh, how he
knows me!
    I sashay across the room, feeling full of confidence, knowing
I’ve never looked better. Men eye me up again, and I wonder which of them might
have special white cards too. My bottom’s still pretty warm beneath my skirt,
and the thought of being ogled heats it up even more. I imagine the possessors
of the white cards focusing on my swaying rear as I pass by, wondering what it
might be like to touch it, fondle it, spank it.
    My heart flutters. I’m not ready for that yet, and maybe never
will be, but the idea of them watching Simon do the honors thrills and stirs
me.
    A few minutes later I’m in the powder room, behind a locked
door, fighting a battle with myself. I’m almost dying of lust, but at the moment
Simon’s in control, and he hasn’t told me I can masturbate.